Epilogue

Spander adjusted himself in his seat as he waited. He had been summoned by the Quintessons. A recorder was sent to retrieve him quickly, never stopping once to explain what purpose they had in mind. He has now been waiting for hours. His servos were anxious to stretch before they seize up. He was trying keep his senses sharp in anticipation of being called upon.

There was little activity to pay attention to to keep his mind from wandering. If he could he would watch drones work. It always helped to observe groups and try to sort who was the fastest or who was the strongest. He found this an essential skill in rising up to where he was now. But there was nothing to watch. Only the sound of the wind passing through nearby cooling vents. He began to think he was losing his senses from boredom, the cooling vents were beginning to sound like someone calling his name.

[Haaaaannnderrrr.]

Whatever the Quitnessons summoned him for must be something urgent. They must have a new task that he is best suited for. There were rumours that the Quintessons were close to unlocking the secret to longevity. If that were true, they would surely want to keep him alive. That would be the ultimate reward, he thought.

[Ssspaaaaaannnderrrr.]

He felt a chill in the air, as the lights flickered for a split second. That wasn't the vents. It was a voice he couldn't hear. It reached inside and whispered into his very thoughts. It rang through his mind so clear he felt compelled to answer.

"Is someone there?" he called softly, trying not to alert anyone who might be listening in. His words echoed eerily off. A moment passed where any answer that ought to call back gave up to silence. He realized he must've been crazy to expect an answer. Yet he still didn't feel alone waiting in the hall.

Moments passed as Spander sat perfectly still. Listening carefully. Watching for anything. The lights flickered again. This time one of them must've burned out, because the hall dimmed. When his optics wandered higher he saw a light floating above him. A moment of fear gripped his spark as he felt the light looking at him. There was no face or any visible optics. The powerful spark hovered lower, and Spander knew it had come for him and him alone. When he looked into the light, he heard the voice. Spander tried to remind himself it's not real sound, and yet it's words still shook him to his core.

[Spander.]

"Who are you?" he choked. He suddenly found he could not bring himself to look away.

[I am more than you could understand. A power that has slept since the cosmos was young. Slept... for I am infinite—without beginning or end. I have chosen now to be the time I return and you, Spander, will be the one who heralds that return. I see who you truly are, what you can become. You are loyal and pure. The hidden powers of your spark are wasted on these Quintessons.]

"The Quintessons rule this planet, and someday may conquer thousands more." If he had said these words to another protoform, he would muster all of his bravado to hide any doubt deep within his own thoughts—where his own secrets could never harm him. But here... somehow staring into this light, and with that ghostly voice permeating his mind his words came out choppy and stifled. In it's violet light he could not conceal his innermost doubts.

The voice did not scoff in disbelief, nor chuckle in amusement. It was emotionless and direct. [Worlds... are but drops in the cosmic ocean. I let them celebrate their insignificant splash, because they will fall before the storm. Pledge your spark to me. Give me your undying servitude, and be spared my inevitable wrath.]

"No."

[A pity you know not to whom you speak. I do not make requests. I do not compromise. What I desire, I shall have.]

"Get lost, freak!" Spander shouted, as the violet spark shot down and passed through his chest plate. He convulsed and fought to hold his body steady. He held out one hand and watched it reshape itself. The solid metal was being sculpted before his eyes. As it changed, he could no longer feel it, he could no longer control it no matter how hard he tried. The voice filled his thoughts, as Spander felt his strength faltering. His very spark was being corrupted. Consumed.

[You. Belong. To me.]


"Just a moment longer..." said Suspicion.

"I'm sure it's safe now." groaned Pride.

The Quintessons were standing at their communications console. Their tentacles fiddled with dials as several monitors displayed coordinates for several points of interest. They watched as one target in particular began to flicker on the grid. They began to type special encryption codes into their main transmitter.

"At this range we have to boost the signal." said Suspicion. "It's so high even black holes can't be guaranteed to obscure it."

"It would be heavily distorted, they wouldn't be able to decipher it." said Pride.

"But they might be able to trace the point of origin." argued Suspicion. "Their ship is heading away for now, but if they came back looking for us…"

"Just link us already!" said Greed, impatiently. "Let's get this over with."

"Done," said Suspicion, "it's a little hazy, but the link is stable."

"This is the Quintesson flagship Honour's Claim, Perpetual Truth, do you read us?"

A moment passed as static came through every possible frequency. The Quintessons adjusted dials to pick up the faintest response. As they listened closely, a low voice droned a simple reply.

"We read you."

"This is Pride and the Court of the Untamed Quadrant. Please identify yourself."

"Formality, and the Supreme Court of the Manticore Supercluster." the disappointed voice answered.

Each Judge hoped this was some kind of joke. This couldn't be right. Their signal was of a complexity that only the High Court would have investigated. And the encryption was based on their discoveries. How could the supreme court have intercepted it first?

"I thought you encrypted this?" whispered Malice.

"I did!" said Suspicion, softly.

"Then how—"

"You sound surprised," gloated Formality. "The high court completed their campaign and returned to Manifest Destiny several months ago. Since their ship is docked, they just relayed your transmission straight to us. We had believed you had been lost in some… unexpected catastrophe, and had to see for ourselves that this transmission was indeed authentic." One of the monitors that had been filled with static began to clear up. They could see the stern face of Formality staring intently at them. The sound was clearing up as well. They could hear the hum the Supreme Court's anti-gravity field. For ten thousand years they have lived. Across countless star systems they have conquered. They are the embodiment of supreme power. Their body resembles that of a typical humanoid, yet it is purely ornamental. Their hands have never had to work, because mortals must carry out the will of gods. Their feet have never had to walk, because mortals trudge through the dirt their ancestors crawled from. Gods exist above mortals, in every possible way.

As the court of the Untamed Quadrant stared at the monitor, they watched as each of the other judges gracefully passed into view. Their gazes were scornful and contemptuous. They knew each face with the sting of strenuous worship. For they were themselves cloned from their genetic stock, and they were gifted with copies of their memories. Memories of victories older than empires. Older than legends. Formality, Purity, Justice, Precision and Silence. Even Quintessons do not speak to their living gods without receiving their judgment in turn.

They must defend themselves. For all are guilty until proven innocent. Greed was the first to take the stand.

"The Carvers found us." he stated.

Greed was met with his precursor, Precision.

"Why had you not contacted us for assistance? We can bridge your ship back at a moment's notice."

"Honour's claim was damaged in our escape," continued Greed "and we crashed on a planet."

"We could have sent an escort to retrieve you." continued Precision.

Suspicion slid into their centre slot. This was mirrored almost immediately with Silence taking control of theirs.

"With all due respect, your honours, we've taken refuge on a rather unique planet. We believe we've found something tha—"

Silence leaned closer. His face was without a mouth, but he communicated with exceptionally expressive eyes. There was intrigue at the word 'planet' followed by anticipation. Suspicion read these cues and knew Silence was asking if they had conquered this planet.

"The planet was without nations to conquer." Suspicion reiterated.

The most subtle of eyebrow raises, and a narrowing of the eyes told Suspicion that Silence wondered if this planet had, perhaps a primitive society.

"No society at all." he answered. "This planet is without life—that is, life as we know it. We've found instea—" Suspicion was interrupted by Purity, who quickly took the centre slot of the Supreme Court. His eyes were filled with hatred.

"You're out of order, Suspicion!" he decreed, "We're not interested in whatever eccentric flora or fauna you've collected. What we know is that you've suffered... a defeat! You've crashed our ship on a deserted planet and were unwilling to signal for any assistance. You've remained hidden for a year and finally contact us to say you've accomplished nothing! To be direct, this embarrassment must never be made known. We will send our closest agents to retrieve you, erase any trace that you were ever there and bring you back to Manifest Destiny where you will be fully probed and dissected. Whatever flaws you carry, we must ensure we also excise it from us and all other courts. How does the defendant plead?"

"Not guilty!" begged Faith.

"Will you call any witnesses to corroborate your alibi, from this... uninhabited planet?" The words looked to leave a bitter taste in Purity's mouth.

Faith could tell every detail about their voyage was now being used as evidence against them. They didn't have time for the soft sell.

"If it please the court, we must be brief. If you bridge to our coordinates you may destroy a critical advantage against the Carvers! What we have found is unlike anything the Quintesson empire has ever seen: an energy supply that gains sentience! Our fleets can be equipped with weapons and soldiers with unequal firepower and an inexhaustible fuel source. The Carvers will detect the bridge and return to destroy this planet looking for us. We cannot afford to lose such a critical advantage!"

"Silence!" commanded Justice. "You're starting to forget who you really are."

Justice was met by his contemporary, Malice.

"Your honours," protested Malice, "we request that our claims be reviewed by yourselves or the High Court of the Kraken Nebula in person before dismissing them as false. We've prepared a demonstration." Malice stood ready to summon the protoform waiting outside their throne room.

"That won't be necessary." concluded Justice.

"Then you believe us?"

"No." said Justice

"Then... Will you come to see our findings yourselves?"

"No." repeated Justice.

"Then... Will you send the High Court of the Kraken Nebula?

"No." Justice repeated again.

"Then—"

"This court finds the defendants: guilty!"

"PLEASE!" shouted Faith.

"Adjourned!"

The screens went dark.

The Quintessons stood in silence for what felt like hours. They had disgraced the legacy of their empire. There was nothing left to do but wait for their sentence to be carried out. This city they had worked so hard to build, this planet they had claimed, all of it was for nothing. As they stepped out into the main room of their laboratory, Lodex Gamma was waiting. He approached his masters, but before he could speak the Quintessons picked him up by the throat. They held him close to their enlarged head.

"Report." whispered Faith, slowly. "Tell us. Something. Good."

"We've rounded up all the protoforms remaining in the city. They're being held in high security prison camps. The enforcers only await your command to execute them."

"Not execute. We may yet need their Sparks." Faith speculated, "The supreme court will see the power of the sparks first-hand. When they come, they will meet an army of weaponized sparks and will be forced to submit to our judgment!" he lowered down the recorder, "Send in Spander at once, he's just become the first prtotoform to become promoted to admiral!"

Lodex went out into the hall. The Quintessons could hear him stop. He said nothing as he walked again up to them with a surprised expression on his face.

"It would appear his promotion is to be... posthumous."

"What?" said faith aghast.

"The protoform has expired..." the recorder concluded "and that's putting it lightly."

The Quintessons went to see. Spander's body was lying sprawled on the floor. His chest had been ripped open and several components had been damaged. The spark chamber was barely clinging to it's alcove, someone had tried to pry it out of his chest. And they succeeded.

"An assassin?"

"No." said Suspicion as he leaned closed to look at Spander's limbs. His fingers appeared modified, almost mutated. But he couldn't stop looking at the face. Half was unmistakably Spander, the other half was something else. Something that wasn't one of their designs. It had natural curves as if it were taken from a living creature. There were shallow etchings that appeared eerily ritual in style. They did not resemble any language they had ever seen. This is nothing that could be done by a drone assembler, or even by their own hand without specialized tools. Suspicion took control and circled the unsparked protoform as he mused.

"It may not be coincidence that all copies of the prototype weapon failed in the battle. It may not be a coincidence that the protoforms humiliated us and escaped with impunity. We must not be too hard on ourselves. We didn't fail because we underestimated our enemy, we failed because we have been sabotaged!"

"You suspect that someone within our ranks is a member of the resistance. Could some of our original crew have survived for this long?" asked pride.

"No. I'm afraid it's much worse than that." confessed Suspicion. "Who handled the prototype weapons before they were mass produced? Who drew the plans for the Colosseum to leave a viable escape route directly beneath the arena floor? Who massed produced the protoforms without properly ensuring a fail-safe locking trigger, even after increasing acts of rebellion?"

Pride sputtered, "You... can't mean."

"I absolutely do! We have an insider!"

"No. No! That's impossible. You shouldn't even think—let alone say such things!"

"Look at these remains. Someone is trying to send us a message. Whoever it was had to be here, on our ship! They can... infect our technology? Name one regime within a hundred light-years that can manipulate our technology like this. They know precisely what our next moves are. And I've seen markings like these before. I cannot recall where at this time. It would have to be in an ancient text for a long extinct culture. We need not ask who could have done all these things. One of us is the insider..." He said, accusingly. "But which one?"

Faith took control, "All I know is we must watch each other closely. We'll be trying to find a single thought or memory. It will be buried deep, so deep it has been suppressed for thousands of years. It may even persist in the other courts. Yet somehow, against all odds, It surfaced here while we were too busy dealing with these protoforms and we never noticed it. We must be vigilant."

"But... how will we know?" asked Greed.

"The captives!"

"We will use the captives as bait!" gleamed Faith, "Yes. These protoforms are clearly favoured by the insider. Our enemies will be forced to reveal themselves or standby while they suffer."

Pride slid into position, "We failed to crush their meagre resistance. This conflict has escalated beyond mere protests. That only leaves one course of action..." Every face circled the cranium until Malice slid into the centre slot.

"...War!"